


Love in Bloom

by coolangelsthesis



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5675581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolangelsthesis/pseuds/coolangelsthesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His neighbor was weird.</p><p>He stayed up until 4 AM most nights, playing old games that Aoba played when he was a teenager, neon green lights coming from his windows and from beneath the slit of his front door always led Aoba when Ren needed to use the restroom; and he ordered take-out constantly, it was almost weekly that a delivery man came to his apartment on accident because his neighbor gave them the wrong address.</p><p>This was one of those days—Aoba knocked furiously on his neighbor’s front door, rang repeatedly on his buzzer, until the front door swung open and a face filled to the brim with various pieces of metal and steely green eyes pierced him, took the cardboard pizza box from his hands, and closed it again without paying him back; yeah, his neighbor was weird, but... he didn't particularly mind it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in Bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ink_Completion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Completion/gifts).



> This is a piece I've wanted to write for a _long time_. I had the idea around a year ago and it's been culminating since then!  
>  A big thanks to Ink for commissioning me and letting me write this out. ^^

His neighbor never gave them the right address.

It had become a regular part of Aoba’s routine-- some stranger knocking on his door fervently, like the world would collapse around them if he didn’t answer on time. A couple times he considered not opening his door, just to see if the world _was_ coming to an end.  
It wasn’t. For Aoba, anyway. He couldn’t say much for the person on the other side of his door.

Every time he opened his door when this happened—every single time—it was the same thing: some greasy-haired teenager just a day over the labor restriction laws, ready and un-eager to deliver, a large black bag in hand.

“Delivery for apartment 204A?” they would ask, forcing the fakest, brightest smile.  
Aoba would simply sigh and point at his next door neighbor’s apartment. “That’s the guy you’re looking for, 204B,” he would say in as a polite of tone as he could muster. At least their distaste was mutual.

Aoba had only been living in this apartment complex for a couple months, but in that short amount of time he’d noticed that his neighbor worked like clockwork. He ordered delivery pizza from different places on specific days of the week, at specific times of the day-- usually into the late hours of the night. He ordered enough pizza to keep every chain up and running. Aoba had never gotten more than a quick look at him, but the guy seemed pretty slender and fit, given the fact his diet consisted of cheap delivery pizza.

Aoba always wanted to ask why he ordered takeout so much, but he never mustered the courage to speak to him face-to-face. The guy’s piercings and the cold, expressionless look on his face said that he’d rather do anything than engage in personal conversation.  
He almost felt bad for the poor delivery guys who would have to deal with that guy rather than him.

Usually when Aoba cleared up the confusion, they would hastily apologize and fix their mistake and he would go back into his apartment in peace.

But this time…

This time, the delivery man fought back. He squared his shoulders (the act comical when his hat hooded more than half of his face), narrowed his eyes, and sighed.

“I’m sorry, _sir_ , but this is the address I was given.” He pulled out a large pizza box from his bag and shoved it towards Aoba. “If you’re going to pull some fucking prank, call up my boss and say I messed up so you should get it for free or whatever, I’m not having _any_ of that shit. You paid for it already so just give me my damn tip and I’ll go.”

 _Someone has had a bad day_ , Aoba thought to himself. _Some bad breakup or something. Or maybe just a jerk._  
“What are you waiting for?” the teen asked, prodding Aoba in the chest with a corner of the box. “Take it already.” 

_Definitely a jerk._

As much as he didn’t want to give this asshole a single penny… he couldn’t refuse a pizza. Not when his stomach growled at the sight and the smell.  
He hadn't had something that could be described as a 'proper' meal in over a weak, hadn't ate anything where the nutrition label didn’t take up half of the packaging. He didn't have the money to afford anything else. Most of his food budget went towards his grandmother’s medical bills, after an unexpected-- and unnecessary, she scolded-- trip to the hospital. All he could afford now was packages of ramen and the occasional fast-food meal on his way home from work. Having this pizza right in front of him was like hanging a large, meaty bone in front of a hungry stray's nose.

... And if the punk next door had paid for it already, he was getting it bargain price. Just a mere couple dollars for a large pizza all to himself. _Score!_

Aoba shrugged and pulled out his wallet.  
“Sorry, sorry, I was just trying to mess with you,” he fake-laughed as he searched through his wallet. “You’re right, it is mine. Here you go, have a nice day!”

In exchange for the pizza, he handed the jerk-asshole teen a couple faded bills tucked in the back of his wallet. The guy frowned at the sad wad of cash in his hands, and he turned back around, muttering to himself as he disappeared from sight.

As Aoba stepped back into his apartment, he cheered triumphantly. He would have jumped with joy if he didn’t have a pizza clutched in his hands. Instead he pumped his free hand up in the air, catching the alarm of his Pomeranian sat on the couch. The small dog jumped up, tail wagging eagerly as he stared at his master.

“We scored ourselves a feast tonight, Ren!” he said, waggling the box like a fisherman holds his catch of the day.

He set the pizza box down on his coffee table, then hurried towards his cluttered kitchen for a plate and a couple napkins. Ren was already surveying the box, eagerly sniffing it.

“Don’t worry,” Aoba said, ruffling up his dog’s hair playfully. “I’ll give you some too. There’s no way I can finish this entire thing by myself. So let’s dig in!”

Aoba opened the box-- but regret kicked in just as soon as he leaned in for a piece.

… This wasn’t his.

He hadn’t paid for this.

He didn’t have the right to take his neighbor’s dinner— his neighbor who probably didn’t know how to cook, given how much he ordered takeout, at that.  
If he were to eat this pizza, he would be some sort of thief; not only that, but his neighbor would hold a grudge against him, probably even starve.

Despite his hunger, he couldn't have his pizza and eat it, too.

Sheepishly, he closed the pizza back up, shooting a guilty glare down at Ren. In compensation, he offered him a dog treat, or two… or three.

The right thing for him to do would be to bring this to his neighbor, explain himself, and apologize. There’s no way his neighbor was as intimidating as he looked, right? The apartment complex ran background checks on all its tenants… right?

Aoba exhaled a sharp breath; he was getting worked up over nothing. This was a simple, commonplace mistake that could have happened to anyone. _Of course_.

Keeping that thought in mind, he exited his apartment with pizza in hand, crossing the couple of steps that separated him from his neighbor.

He knocked on the door once. No response.

He waited for a couple minutes, then knocked again. Nothing.

_Was he even here?_

“Hello?” Aoba called out, rapping his knuckles against the apartment once more. “Is anyone there? It’s your neighbor, and I—”

Suddenly the door swung open, a tall, slim man stepping out to the threshold of his apartment.

When face to face, he was even more intimidating than the couple offhand glances he caught of his neighbor. They were almost about the same height, but something about his expression and his mannerisms made Aoba feel like he was cowering below him. He had even more piercings than Aoba had ever expected, metal practically lining the side of his left ear like he was part cyborg. It felt painful just to look at.

Aoba swallowed down his nerves, and suddenly realized how dry his throat had become.  
“Ah… s-sorry to i-interrupt you,” he started. “W-Were you busy…?”  
He stole glance into his neighbor’s apartment. He a wide array of monitors scattered everywhere, streams of information trailing at lightning speeds. The screens were the only source of light, drowning his neighbor in a pallid green glow.

“Not particularly,” he muttered, voice husky and uninterested. He folded his arms over his chest, leaning his weight against his doorframe. “Why? Why are you holding a pizza?”

“Ah, well… see. It’s yours. You... you keep giving delivery guys the wrong address and I keep having to direct them to you! But this guy… he was really rude. He wouldn’t listen to me and I had to pay for it. So, uh… here.”

The guy’s expression changed slightly, eyebrows raised in surprise. He took the pizza box after a moment of hesitation, eyes scanning its surface like he was looking for evidence of it being tampered with.

“Thanks,” he muttered after an awkward minute, eyes cast down and away like a shy child.

Then he slammed the door shut behind him.

… Aoba half-expected a repayment for paying the tip, but part of him knew better than that. Punk kids like him wouldn’t think twice about returning gestures of kindness. He was just some jerk who only thought about himself.

But it was fine. It was just a couple dollars, just enough to afford a cheap burger at the restaurant a couple blocks away. Perhaps giving that money away was doing himself a favor.

He had a thought, one that caught him off guard: he kind of wanted to know more about his mysterious neighbor. Yes, he was rude, but there was something interesting about him. Fascinating, even. Odd.  
Something about his very nature told Aoba there was more to the picture than just a rude personality. He couldn’t discern what it was: the allure of his piercings, his intensity... or something else, something he couldn’t put a word to…

Regardless, this wouldn’t be the last time they’d meet face to face. He didn’t care how he went about it-- actually, hadn’t even _thought_ about how he’d go about it-- but he would come up with something. He could either kill him with kindness or break in by brute force... or... whatever. Dealing with people was his specialty, he would figure out the solution somehow. Someway.

With a small sigh he headed back to his apartment, anticipating the taste of another bowl of cheap ramen. 


End file.
